All for the love of one
by mirrorOfsin
Summary: She was pretty, Rosamund observed, even if she was glaring at her and fingers twitching to grab the stake that lay on the ground. Dark hair that half hung about her and such pale skin it looked almost translucent. But it was her scent that Rosamund found most appealing though the rain had dulled it. Vampire!AU. Rosera is the main ship. Chapter fic.
1. Prologue

**A/N**: this is for the wonderful Lauren (and the other Rosera girls) because I said I would do something longer. I have written other chapters but I will be slow-ish on the update just because Life and my own procrastination. Oh and of course there is Corah.

**All for the love of one**

London, 1891

The rain, Vera thought as she ran for her life down the dark streets of London, was a blessing in disguise. Though it weighed her skirts and stuck her hair to her face and neck, it cooled her heated body and covered her scent. She almost slipped on the cobbled stones as she rounded a corner and cursed like a sailor though her lungs burned and her heart was hammering in her chest. It was only until her legs all but gave under her that she had to stop. She leaned heavily against the brick wall of a dingy backstreet and in the distance a dog barked. She tipped her head back and opened her mouth to take in some of the rain and closed her eyes to prevent herself from keeling over there and then.

When the dizziness subsided she glanced down at her hands, still somewhat covered in blood and in her left she gripped the stake tightly. Her dress was also bloody and filthy, the hem torn and frayed beyond repair. She knew Sarah would have a fit and a half if she saw the state of it, her friendship with the seamstress already a little taunt with her current nightly activities.

She heard a sound but before she could move an inch, something, or some_one_, slammed her up against the wall, knocking the wind out from her. Her wrists were clasped and squeezed till she cried out and dropped the stake and she feared that they would break her bones. She opened her mouth, instinct taking over…

"Make one sound and I'll rip your throat out," a voice whispered so deadly low by her ear. She managed to stifle the scream that threated to spill from her. They remained locked like that long enough for Vera to gather her wits and judge the situation she was in. The being, female, pressed up against her to stop her from moving, droplets of water falling onto her neck from a lock of would-be red hair that would shine brightly when dry. With her head twisted to the right, Vera was painfully aware that her neck was exposed and the creature's mouth (she had no doubt that this was a vampire) was so close.

"If I let you go," the stranger's voice murmured lowly. "You won't scream nor run. I did not wear the best shoes for running after Hunters today," she added and Vera could hear the smile in her tone. Vera stayed still and slowly the vampire released her, stepping away and Vera felt a strange loss at the lack of contact. She turned her head carefully and the sight of the creature stunned even her own eyes. She had seen vampires before – normally before she staked them – and they had all been beautiful, disgustingly so. But she was something different – even completely drenched and bedraggled from the chase and in the half-light of the moon and dim street lamp. She stood not much taller than herself and moved with feline grace as she surveyed Vera.

"You're older than most Hunters I've had the, hmm," she paused for a second. "_Pleasure _of meeting."

That snapped Vera out of her slightly subdued state.

"Bit rich, coming from the likes of you."

Rosamund smiled though she showed no teeth. Feisty, she thought, and not stupid either since she had done what she asked and not screamed. She had not meant to insult, forgetting how humans, especially females, got prickly about ages. Of course, to a vampire, the older you were the most prestige you had and Rosamund was only too ready to remind others of her 600 years. She was pretty, Rosamund observed, even if she was glaring at her and fingers twitching to grab the stake that lay on the ground. Dark hair that half hung about her and such pale skin it looked almost translucent. But it was her scent that Rosamund found most appealing though the rain had dulled it. It was like lilies and something more earthy, something darker and heady and she inhaled again despite herself.

Her voice was pleasing too. A rich timbre with a soft Irish lit. That made her pause then. Was she a rogue Hunter or part of a group – the ones that had been behind the recent attacks that had caused ripples of alarm throughout the vampire community? She let her senses feel out for anyone else but she could feel no one yet still she asked:

"Are you alone?"

Vera laughed at that. "Looks that way, doesn't it?"

Rosamund narrowed her eyes and then her ears picked up on something and she stilled. Swooping down, another vampire came upon them. He snarled when he saw Vera but Rosamund had already moved between them.

"Get out of my way," he growled and Vera recognised him from the gathering she had infiltrated and had proceeded to execute two of the five vampires that had been present.

"No Carlisle," Rosamund said forcefully. "We need her-"

"I don't give a fuck," he spat, eyes blazing as he stared at her. "She's a Hunter and she killed Molesley and-"

"I know," Rosamund cut him off. "But she needs to be kept alive. She might know-"

Carlisle didn't wait to hear the rest, lunging past Rosamund and grabbed hold of Vera. He knocked her down onto the wet and grimy floor, mouth open with fangs ready to rip her apart. Vera screamed and clawed at him, his weight was so heavy it was crushing her until he was forcefully pulled off of her.

"Don't stop me Rosamund!" He yelled, attention turned to the other vampire whilst Vera lay watching them with eyes wide and head thumping from where it had banged on the ground.

"I warned you," she snapped and suddenly they were fighting each other, Carlisle attacking first and forcing Rosamund to retaliate. Vera managed to roll onto her side and glanced up, seeing the stake just above her head. She reached out but her movement caught Carlisle's eye and he was upon her once more.

Rosamund thought that maybe she should just let him kill the Hunter but her basic instinct, something that she trusted above all else, told her no. Again she managed to pull him off as they struggled on the ground, Rosamund doing her best to keep him away from Vera. They were of a similar age so of a similar strength, making it harder for Rosamund to keep him at bay.

"Richard! Stop!" She shouted but it was no use. His bloodlust would not be calmed and without thinking Vera managed to reach up and grab the stake. But now what to do? Shakily, she managed to get to her feet amidst fighting and she considered her options.

She could run but either one – or both – could track her and kill her.

Or she could stake them both and be done with it.

But something told her that she couldn't harm the red-head.

Both noticed she had moved and as Carlisle turned to her once more, pushing Rosamund away and faced her fully. Vera saw her chance and plunged the stake right through his heart, blood spurting out of the wound as she pulled it out. He looked at her in shock then he screamed as his skin started to flake and blood flowed and he crumbled into ash and blood till there was nothing left of him. Rosamund gazed at her, something close to fear in her eyes but Vera paid her no mind. Exhausted and her head aching, Vera swayed as she sunk to her knees

Rosamund moved quickly, holding her before she passed out and the scent of blood filled her senses. There was a cut on the Hunter's temple and what looked like claw marks at the base of her neck where Carlisle had scratched her.

She had saved her.

Dragging them both up to their feet, Rosamund turned her to face her, making sure that the stake was down and not about to be shoved into her.

"Do you want to live, Hunter?"

Vera blinked at her. "What? Of course-"

"Then run," Rosamund told her.

"You're letting me go?" Vera frowned, utterly confused and winced as she gingerly touched her head.

"Call it a lifeline for staking Carlisle," she told her and closed the distance between them. "Tell me your name."

"Why?"

Rosamund's smile was cryptic and she reached out, slowly stroking Vera's cheek and neck before touching her lips lightly.

"Just tell me."

Vera swayed again before her, feeling lightheaded and not at all in control of herself. Why was her heart thumping madly in her chest? A flush crept along her neck and chest. Rosamund's fingers were still upon her.

"Vera."

"_Vera_." Rosamund tried her name out in a purr that made the other woman shiver. Oh, there was certainly something between them, a nameless energy that tugged at her and it made Rosamund inwardly frown. But still she leaned in till she was but a breath away.

"I'm Rosamund," she said softly even though Vera had already known that, what with Carlisle yelling at her like he had. "Till we meet again."

"Again?" Vera murmured and Rosamund's eyes sparkled.

"Oh, most definitely," she whispered and kissed her mouth briefly.

Vera's gasp was muffled and through her body, warm and cold shots coursed through her. It was too short to be romantic or erotic or anything at all but it left Vera's lips burning and Rosamund's as well, she guessed, judging by the way the vampire touched her own lips.

Then Rosamund looked around them, her face suddenly serious as she stared down the street before she turned back to Vera and gave her a little shove. "Run, now!"

And Vera, who never normally did as commanded, did just that.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** so I did not lie when I said I would take a while with the updates. To be fair, I had to change a few things around with this chapter so maybe the next won't take as long. Also, Philip, Duke of Crowborough is the Duke from series 1 with Thomas. This is a kind of filler chapter but needed to set up the background issues and certain dynamics.

Chapter 1

**One year later**

Council Chamber – Westminster, London, 1892

The candles flickered in the chamber, casting orange hues and long shadows upon bodies and walls. Voices murmured like the low beat of a swarm of bees trapped inside a glass box, of men and women, each frozen in various ages but all having lived for so long (mostly falling between 300 to 800 years) that they made up England's elite. In the rounded room, the seats were arranged into two sides, like crescent moons, with the rows stacked so no one would be hidden. Where the two points met at the top there was a single seat where the Elder sat and opposite them was the door from which they had all entered through. Anyone could take the floor between the two sides should they wish when the chamber was used as a court of law or petitions. They were only a few hundred of them in total – most not bothering to come tonight or were residing elsewhere in the world. They weren't ones to stay on the same soil for all their incredibly long lives and so there were more than a handful of empty seats scattered around. The Elders were not amongst them except the newly appointed Head of Council that had just entered slowly through the heavy mahogany doors. He looked no more than thirty years old, dark hair tied back with a black ribbon and piercing grey eyes that revealed to all his true status. They stood up in respect before settling and the process began.

Rosamund smoothed her hands over the dark blue satin of her dress and glanced to her left and then right, noting who was absent and who had, surprising, turned up. This was no ordinary council meeting, only the leading of them being asked to attend and she waited patiently as the others took to their own seats and a hush descended. Rosamund listened to the few announcements that began the session before they tackled the topic at hand.

"This council has been called forth to discuss the rising issue on the recent outbursts of violence from our kind against the human race," the Elder began before nodding to the house speaker and there was a small titter from those gathered. Rosamund noticed Philip, a Duke in their ranks, whisper something to his friend next to him and smile as he caught her eye. She pointedly ignored him, tipping her chin up higher and steeling her back.

"The Hunters have been recruiting at speed over the last couple of years, no doubt these recent attacks," the speaker, Robert Crawley – a good but somewhat weak (or at least susceptible to influence) lord, glanced towards Philip's side of the room briefly and then around as to appear neutral. "These attacks," he continued. "Have been a rallying cry for them and, in the light of this, it is no surprise that Hunter numbers are continuing to grow."

"Have we gotten close to finding out who ordered these attacks?" Another lord asked and Rosamund looked again towards Philip, who remained impassive despite her hard glare. Her fingers curled in her lap, nails pressing into her palms.

"No," Robert answered and Rosamund glanced sharply at him. He gave a little nervous look at the Elder who peered at him and then went back to looking at the papers before him. "But justice will be served once we do. The criminals, for that is what they are, will pay dearly for the slaughter that occurred."

That, Rosamund was pleased to see, took the Duke's smile away.

"As we all know, the laws set by our Elders," he gave a small nod of respect, "are there to ensure peace and stability. Humans and vampires have lived alongside each other for centuries and all though there have been times of animosity and destruction on both parts, our recent history has shown the possibilities of a good co-existence. We need to protect this balance between ourselves-"

"Yet the visibility of the Hunters and their growth threatens this," Philip suddenly spoke, rising to his feet gracefully. All the attention was upon him now and Rosamund seethed in her seat. "The Hunters see us as the enemy and vow to alienate us from existence. We have been, as their name implies, hunted and tortured. Our own families have been threatened and hurt by them and still it is us who must bow and scrape to the human wishes." There were murmurs of agreement to that. "These attacks in Ireland are little to the attacks that we face daily."

The room was abuzz with voices, some cheering on the Duke and others raising up objections. Robert looked a little lost and once more turned to the Elder for guidance on how to proceed. Rosamund had had more than enough of this.

"Are you then suggesting, my lord, that you do not condemn the brutality of these killings in Ireland, but applauded them?" Rosamund asked, standing up and the room fell to a hush. The Elder raised his eyebrow lightly and eyes moved back and forth between the two standing on opposing benches.

"It's true that these were awful attacks but no less than the ones that happened upon us a few years back. I don't remember much being done towards us after that," Philip replied silkily.

"That was an operated attack on a group of Hunters who were fully armed and prepared. These attacks were on defenceless families who had no Hunter connections," Rosamund argued fiercely. "These people were _massacred_. This type of savagery must always be condemned and dealt with or it will only continue."

"And when did the humans deal with those who destroyed us that evening?"

"That event took place almost a hundred years ago," Rosamund spat. "And I remember the perpetrators were caught and put on trial."

"But it didn't stop the Hunters-"

"Nor will this! This is exactly the behaviour the Hunters have needed to promote their cause. We have just handed them our own death warrants," Rosamund looked around and saw few shifting in their seats under her gaze. "The problem we face is how to deal with rogue vampires. These attacks could and were allowed to happen because we have failed ourselves in our ability to control. We have given into lawlessness and have forgotten that we were once human."

"My lady-" the Duke began with a soft drawl but the Elder held up his hand and silenced him.

"Enough," he spoke lowly but all could hear. There were a few seconds of a pause before he asked: "And what of these retaliation attacks?"

Philip opened his mouth but Rosamund was faster in her response: "The Hunters are not striking at random, these are carefully planned."

The Elder raised his eyebrows slightly again and noted something down on the parchment before him. "Go on," he murmured.

"My lord," Philip injected, annoyed that he had been cast over for her. "Lady Rosamund cannot know this for certain. She guesses but-"

"I did not call upon you to speak," the Elder said in his ever-so quiet voice. Rosamund felt mildly triumphant when Philip shifted on his feet and lowered his head as an apology.

"There was an attack a year ago, we all can recall this. A location known to us and where many of us often reside. Hunters infiltrated it and caused the final deaths upon three of our own. They were not randomly selected but premeditated because, of all of us present there, those who were slain, and I mean no disrespect, were not amongst those who are key to the functioning of our society."

"Unless they are starting that way and building up," the Elder murmured then leaned back in his chair. "I will have to deliberate and talk to my other councillors. For now I require you all to be vigilant but under no circumstances must this be allowed to escalate, is that understood? Await your summons by mid-week."

The room murmured and bobbed heads in agreement – some more enthusiastically than others. The Elder rose and everyone followed, waiting for him to leave first before filing out and dispersing across London. The cool night air hit her gently and she took her leave of a small group, heading around to her carriage. Rosamund's driver, a human boy named Alfred, was waiting for her and was about to help her up when her name was called. She turned to see Philip and some of his followers strolling up to her and she saw Alfred's fingers twitch and she shot him a look to say no.

"My lord," she said curtly.

"You drive a hard and compelling argument," Philip said with a slight curl of his lips.

"It's a pity you don't," she replied and one of his men stifled a snigger.

Philip's eyes hardened and his smile turned into a sneer. "How clever you must think you are. But you forget, whilst you are bedding your _whores_ and meddling with humans, there are some of us that risk everything to catch these Hunters. They do not hesitate in destroying us so the next time you think of challenging me, remember that I am a reason you are still here."

Rosamund opened her mouth but he had already gone, flitting into the night and she left out a frustrated sound as she hit the side of her carriage with her fist. In an effort to calm the rage she felt rising, she closed her eyes and counted to twenty, trying to not envisage the delight it would give her to kill him.

"Milady?"

She glanced up to see Alfred watching her with concern. "One day."

"Yes, milady," he replied and helped her up. "And if you'd like help."

She let out a little laugh and Alfred hopped up and shook the reins. "Home?"

"No," she paused then said. "To Sarah's, I'm in need of good company."

"Right you are milady," he said before the carriage rolled forward and set off down the darkened streets.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for all the reviews ;) So things are still moving at a slowish pace but urgh details! But rest assured, things to escalate soon so bear with!

**Chapter 2**

"More!" she panted, body writhing against her and the bed. "Yes, _yes_!"

Rosamund pulled the woman closer, twisting her fingers and, pushing her off the brink she had brought her too, she sunk her fangs into her neck that was presented without qualm. The woman let out a cry of pleasure but mixed, at first, with a little pain. Yet as Rosamund continued to drink, she moaned and her hips rocked to a slow rhythm, her hands wandering up Rosamund's naked back and spearing through her thick coppery hair.

When she finished, Rosamund carefully retracted her fangs and made sure to close up the wounds. The blood sung in her veins, wiping away any dreariness and sharpened her focus. She lay for a moment entangled in the woman's embrace but when she inhaled; it broke any of the illusions (the_ fantasy_) she had created for herself. Lavender soap and cheap perfume washed over her – not lilies and nightshade. As quick as that, any satisfaction she had felt was robbed and restlessness took over.

She sat up, disentangled their limbs and then left the bed, scooping her discarded clothes off the floor and chair. The woman in the bed raised herself up onto her elbow and reached across to the bedside table to pick up a cigarette and matches. She took in two big drags before she decided to speak.

"I thought you didn't like to take it from the neck?"

Rosamund didn't answer her as she tugged upon the laces of her corset, almost fumbling with them. Marigold smirked and shifted under the covers. Rosamund had been coming to her for almost a year now but it was clear that whatever passed between them, Marigold was just a substitute (and a poor one at that) for someone else. She herself didn't mind as she was more than used to playing a variety of roles for different customers but with Rosamund she would never know who exactly she was supposed to be.

Rosamund dressed herself quickly before reached for her purse. She paused for a moment, thinking something through, then started to place the money on the small table which had some half-dead flowers within them.

She had made a mistake, gone too far in her own perverse fantasy and it had stop. She needed to be rid of _her_.

Marigold sat up quickly with a frown. From what she could see, Rosamund was being more than generous this time. "I'm not complaining but you do _know_ that's a lot more than what is agreed?"

Rosamund glanced back and offered a quick, tight smile before she closed her purse and turned to face her. "Yes, I am aware. This is for-"

"I know," Marigold cut across, rising to her feet and pulling on an old red silk dressing gown and tied the sash loosely around her waist. "You're paying me off and ending our arrangement," she sighed.

She counted the money that Rosamund had placed down with an appreciative smile. Marigold would be sad to see her go – her tips were much needed.

"I'll miss you."

Rosamund let out a wry chuckle. "You mean my money."

"But we had a good time, yes?" Marigold reached up and pressed a small kiss on her cheek. It was the most affectionate thing she had ever done towards her and it seemed to have caught them both by surprise as Marigold blushed a little.

"Yes, we had a good time," Rosamund murmured and with a small smile, she opened the door and made her way across the landing. Marigold leaned in the doorway, all tousled dark hair and a sultry smile as she watched her before she turned her attention to a group of women that were reclining on the landing, overlooking the bannister to observe the people below. Picking out potential customers.

Reaching the ground floor, Rosamund made her way to the front room which was set up with a few tables for cards which were being used and, just as she thought, she found Thomas trying his luck at billiards.

"You've finished early," he mumbled as he took his shot and then grinned as it was a perfect strike. He turned his attention to her then and took himself out of the game. "It's alright, I was winning anyway."

"No doubt," Rosamund remarked dryly as he drained his drink and plonked it on the side. "Is she free?"

"Yeah, but I'm telling you, she's in a rotten mood."

Leaving the room after picking up a light, they made their way through the house, walking down a narrow hall that was out of bounds to anyone but a small handful. At the end there was a door and Thomas pulled out a chain with three silver keys, using the smallest to unlock it. It was the doorway that connected this house to the one it backed onto which was used as Sarah's private home (as well as some of those employed by her) and little dress shop. Ushering her inside the room which was used for storage, he locked it once more and then lead her out and into the main house. It was like entering two different worlds, the gilded, shady and sensual world and this one of rather modest establishment. You would have never of guessed the mistress of both was one and the same.

x-x

Sarah O'Brien pressed her fingers to her forehead as she stopped the mending she was doing and let out a long suffering sigh. She had the headache the size of France and was in desperate need of a drink even though the night was nearly at its end and a new day would begin. Dirking before she slept always made for a fitful sleep so she avoided that as much as possible. For all her services this was the thanks she got, a constant hounding from the Undead. They were all agitated and so were the others that often came by her way. The whole community was tense and alert and it wasn't making her job any easier as a go-between the living and the living dead.

She found herself thinking of how she had come to this with a weary smile. She had inherited the job from Elsie Hughes, a woman who had stumbled across her one night when she was but fourteen. A young housemaid that found herself cornered by a half-crazed vampire who had come so close to killing her had she not shown up and staked the bastard. Elsie had half a mind to leave the girl but was struck by the way she hadn't screamed or fainted. In fact, her recovery from the shock of it all was lightning fast and Elsie could see a thousand questions forming in the young girl's mind. She decided to walk the girl back to the house she called home and found herself by the end of their encounter asking the girl if she wanted to join her.

She had given Sarah until the end of the week to decide – not that she needed it apparently as the next day she found her on her doorstep, bag in hand and ready to begin.

At times, Sarah wondered if she had made the right decision; to abandon it all and live her life half in the dark. But, truth be told, she could not imagine a life any other way, especially now that she was in charge as Elsie had "retired" to the country (if you could call a vampire safe house retirement). For all the humans that did not know the truth of it, Sarah owned a reasonably sized dressmakers shop that kept somewhat unusual hours. Elsie hadn't made much use of it in the same way Sarah had and she was turning out a good enough profit from it. As for her other house, having built connections with elites, money wasn't so hard to come by.

Her head pricked up when she heard the sound of familiar footfalls and then three soft knocks. She called Thomas in and leaned back in her chair, unsurprised to see him enter with Rosamund a step behind. She was more than aware of who came and went from her place and had expected this usual chat – even if the night was turning towards its end.

"You'll ruin your eyesight in this poor light," Rosamund commented as she swept past Thomas and seated herself on the chaise longue opposite Sarah, smoothing her hands down her skirt. He gave Rosamund a look and then went recline in a large armchair and attempted to read the paper.

Sarah rolled her eyes lightly. "What do I owe this pleasure, Rosamund?"

They were long past formalities and, perhaps, even considered themselves as… friends. Strange as that was. So Sarah learnt to be blunt with Rosamund just to make her get the point.

"No doubt you know what happened this evening with the Assembly?"

"I may have heard something…" Sarah said vaguely and Rosamund scoffed. Nothing went unnoticed by Sarah, her little birds told her everything that went on. "Do I need to be worried? Well, more than I am at the moment. Had the lot of them breathin' down my neck earlier."

"No," Rosamund said but she herself seemed a little doubtful the gave her a pointed look. "And, I assume you will nevertheless hear of this also, I will not being visiting Marigold again."

Sarah arched an eyebrow and glanced at Thomas who pulled a face from behind the page he was reading and Sarah smirked.

"Is that so?"

"She's been paid sufficiently."

"No doubt," Sarah murmured and then set aside her sewing and stood up, stretching her back. Walking towards the window of her sitting room, she pulled back the curtain slightly and peered at the sky before letting it fall back and turned to the side to pour herself out a small glass of wine for herself (one glass wouldn't hurt). She offered to the others but both declined.

"I trust that you got what you were looking for?"

Rosamund eyed her then turned her head to study the room instead. It was one of her favourite rooms with the classic and neat furnishings that didn't clutter the space. It was decorated in shades of blue and cream and on the wall above the small fireplace was a lovely landscape painting. She certainly understood why Sarah chose to spend time in here more than any other room. It was also tucked ever-so slightly away so it offered a little more privacy.

"Rosamund?"

She turned to her sharply then relaxed, realising she had not answered her. "No, but it is of little matter now."

Sarah did not believe her yet she knew not to press the matter. Whatever it was, _whoever_ it was, Rosamund was keeping that secret well and truly hidden.

"Has Cora come by?" Rosamund asked, changing the subject swiftly with a mischievous smile and turned attention onto the other woman who shifted on her feet.

"She has not," Sarah replied lightly and shot Thomas a glare when he let out a little snigger. "Besides, why should she? Her dress is not ready."

"Oh, Sarah," Rosamund shook her head as if she was before a child. "When are you both going to stop dancing around each other?"

"We're not doin' anything," Sarah said defensively.

"Precisely. You're not _doing_ anything about it."

Sarah glared at her. "It's nothin' and besides, if she wanted…" Sarah swallowed a little, feeling her ears and cheeks burn and Thomas made a gagging noise that turned into a yelp when she smacked his arm. "We are friends. No, not even that."

Rosamund let out a long suffering sigh having heard all of this before. She got to her feet graciously as she took in the time it read on the mantle clock. It was not as if she couldn't move in the day time – she just had to make sure she wasn't in direct sunlight which meant moving in shadow. It was a hassle that she only endured when absolutely necessary, preferring to spend the day at her home where at least she was safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't be accidently exposed.

"My dear, one day you will hear how ridiculous you sound," Rosamund said with a sad little smile. "Thomas, if you would be so kind to tell Alfred to come out front."

He scowled a little at being ordered around by someone who wasn't Sarah (and even then he sometimes dug his heels) but nevertheless did it and the two women left the sitting room and slowly walked to Sarah's front door. Sarah had seen right through Rosamund's little ploy to get Thomas out of earshot and now she turned to her to see the vampire looking rather grave.

"Is it as bad as that?" She asked with an attempt at sounding light.

"I would advise some extra guards," Rosamund said lowly and Sarah looked at her quizzically.

"I thought you said they weren't goin' after ones like you. And it's not like I have the funds for that."

"I'll give you the money," Rosamund snapped then softened with an apologetic glance. "It's been a long night. He," and Sarah knew who she meant. "Seems intent on an armed response and the Council is of no use, dithering and waiting until it will be too late!"

Sarah sighed heavily.

"I do not wish to alarm you," Rosamund said softly now, taking Sarah's warm hand to give it squeeze. "But more protection _is_ necessary."

"I will do what I can," Sarah replied and then looked over Rosamund's shoulder to see Thomas come up. "Already?"

"He's coming round."

"Excellent," Rosamund flashed them both a large smile and she leaned down to press a kiss to Sarah's cheek. As she stepped away and as Sarah opened the door for her, she suddenly stilled. Her mind went blank and her senses scream.

_Nightshade and lilies_.

She turned to Sarah who took a reactionary step back as Rosamund stared at her with an expression of confusion and _hunger_. Thomas moved as if to grab her but Rosamund seemed to right herself for she blinked and shook her head, straightening her spine.

"I'm sorry, I thought…" she trailed off, looking for a moment doubtful and then shook her head once more and she mastered her features into a mask of serenity. "I will be in touch," she said with a tight smile for her eyes and then walked out, leaving Sarah to quickly close and bolt the door behind her. Her hands shook and she cursed herself and Thomas moved on his feet agitated.

"What was that about? You don't think…"

"'Course not," Sarah said sharply. "How could she? If they had met, one of 'em would be dead – and I'm not sure which."

"She's got to go," Thomas reproached as they headed to the back of the staircase where there was a door for the cellar below. Thomas reached for his keys and unlocked it for her as she got herself a lamp. "If anyone finds her…"

"I know," Sarah hissed and held her skirts in her hand as she descended the stairs holding a lamp in the other. "But I can't until I get some answers and," she paused for a second. "Whatever she might be or done, Vera's still my friend."


End file.
